


The Worst Kept Secret

by NightReaderEnigma



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ao3 International Fanworks Day 2020, Characters discovering fanworks about themselves, Comedy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Get Meta, Humor, International Fanworks Day 2020, OTP Braime, POV Jaime Lannister, Post LSH, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, True Love, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22612213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: She was straight on his heels when he entered, catching up to him in a few strides of her long legs.Jaime let out a low whistle as he registered the sheer enormity of the room in which they stood.“Impressive – who’d have thought there was this much information on ships?”“Our Harbourmaster on Tarth taught me to identify many kinds of vessels.  Galleys, skiffs, dromonds, cogs, carracks…. But even I could never imagine such extensive coverage of the topic.”“Well get reading.”|*|*|*|*|*|Jaime and Brienne serve as Guards in the Library Archive.  An extensive building of books form an unknown parallel universe.  On this particular day they are assigned to the Supposition Floor - where Jaime suggests some light reading, in a section marked 'Ships and Fic'AKA Braime find their own fanfic
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 80
Kudos: 139





	1. UST

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Braimes! 
> 
> In celebration of International Fanworks Day 2020 I have written this story.  
> The theme is ‘Character’s Discovering Fanworks About Themselves’ and I couldn’t resist the prompt when imagining Jaime and Brienne in that very situation (just too much potential for fun!) 
> 
> It is a crazy concept and true to form I have endeavoured to twist (and stretch) the canon to its furthest possible limit in order to make it work. 
> 
> Disclaimer (LOL):  
> It is written with the intention of being humorous and I openly confess it is:  
> a) slightly parodying our beloved genre  
> and  
> b) not friendly to any other pairings for J&B. OTP – all the way! 
> 
> The tale is Three Chapters long and is fully written – I will be releasing a chapter every few days during lead-up week. Tags will be updated as I go to reflect the chapters. 
> 
> I very much enjoyed coming up with this and I hope it makes someone smile. 😊

Jaime rolled onto his back, shuffling irritably against the hard, unyielding mattress beneath him.

Staring into the endless dark, unable to discern evening from midday now that the Winter’s perpetual night reached even as far as Oldtown. It was here he would spend the years left to him, in the bland rooms which made minimalism seem luxurious. The notion that their chambers should never feel like home – for their place was at their post and vigilance was not born from comfort. 

The Knowledge Keepers was a peculiar institution and certainly one that Jaime never thought he would find himself in. 

_Probably because six moons ago it didn’t exist…_

It was mind boggling exactly how much introspection his psyche had been subjected to of late. Keeping pace with the ever-changing scope of the world he lived in and making use of the frequent quiet periods. 

Grief, loss and disbelief formed the new cornerstones of his existence. Surviving on time which seemed pilfered from another’s fate, a second chance at life which he questioned if he deserved.

But Jaime was a wise enough man not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had narrowly cheated death for the umpteenth time and he revelled in the slippery quality he seemed to have in the Stranger’s grasp. Even if he did find himself sworn to yet another order of Guards, where the only prerequisites were a warm body and the ability to wield a sword. 

The role was comparably dismal to servitude at the Wall – with similarly ludicrous vows. The Knowledge Keepers were bound by codes of secrecy. With especially devout zealots volunteering the removal of their own tongue. Jaime was not that person. Contrary to popular belief he could learn to keep his mouth shut if it meant the option of talking was still available to him. Losing a hand was hard enough, let alone his speech as well. 

When he was a boy the idea of magic had seemed such a tantalising prospect. It leapt from between the pages of their storybooks like a dream, promising to make the impossible reality and sparking the imaginations of silly children. He remembered conversations with an equally bright-eyed Tyrion as they tossed ideas back and forth like a ball. 

“What if the Dragons returned?”

“Can people really rise from the dead?” 

“Do you believe in Ice Spiders?” 

“Imagine if other worlds existed…”

Turns out when push came to shove - all of the above wasn’t as incredible as it was cracked up to be. 

The Dragons indeed returned, with their power crazed Targaryen Queen, triggering another War to further disrupt the Kingdoms. 

It waged still – Crowns resting uneasily upon several heads – Northern, Baratheon, Dornish. 

Except his sister’s golden cranium, hers had rolled with a headman’s axe on the day the scaled beasts arrived. The battle she intended to fight lost before it began. Along with his son and daughter. All were hastily sacrificed by those his sister foolishly believed loyal, in an act of fealty to the Dragon Queen. It was poetic really; that which Tywin had done to the Targaryen line repeated in kind to the Lannisters. But notions of justice and balance did little to quell the ache the news had conjured in his soul. 

Daenerys now sat upon the Iron Throne whilst the other realms dragged their feet, hesitant to relinquish the ground and freedoms they had gained through seas of bloodshed. But they summitted with common cause, calling armistice when the undead rose in droves, when ice spiders clambered over the wall on eight unnatural, hair-covered legs and the Rift opened just off the coast of Oldtown. 

It was a haze at first. A shimmer in the air, offering brief glances of an immense building, stories high. Onlookers gathering in equal parts fear and curiosity, the guards of the city working continuously to hold them back. The Maesters flooded from the Citadel, taking measurements and theorising on this strange manifestation. 

Then as tears were wont to do, it lengthened, the construction which lay beyond the ripples of time and space itself snapping into corporeality. The front half lying in their world, the back somewhere beyond the Rift. Visually from the outside it disappeared into an unknown ether, its existence invisible when viewed on approach from the ocean. But the entrance was as substantial as any other building spanning the shoreline. Solid, tangible and able to be visited. 

It was then the best and brightest were sent to investigate, crossing a bridge between what they knew and what could be. Archmaesters emerging from its mysterious doors unharmed but also deeply concerned. 

The building turned out to be a library of sorts, housing scriptures of varying unknown origins. Documentation methods surpassing handwriting, ink and quill. Providing proof of a developed world completely foreign to anything previously detailed in all the books of the Citadel.

It was carefully sorted by subject matter, with floors dedicated to invention, science and medicine. Meticulously arranged as if by benevolent hands to expand the education of the continent and ultimately improve their way of life. 

But it also proved troubling, leaving the most cynical and composed of learned men shaken. For it soon became apparent that whatever force or people had conjured this vault, this Archive – somehow, they had profound knowledge of Westeros. 

“A prophet.” The Archmaesters decreed. “This Martin is surely a Seer. For his works sit at the nucleus of the library. Pride of place. Within his writings is knowledge that could be the undoing of our entire civilisation. The machinations of history past – and snippets of battles yet to come.” 

Panic was widespread and opinion was divided. Many demanded access to the documents, whilst others were terrified of the dark forces at play. 

“Some things man should not discover. There is such a concept as too much knowledge. There is a reason behind mortal limitation. Mysteries which are pivotal to lasting peace. If these truths get out, never again will there be tranquillity.”

There were of course attempts to destroy the building, to close the Rift. But it seemed impervious, protected by the same magic which brought it into being. 

Many hours of deliberation were spent on ethical debate. Deciding what should be done and how it would be contained. Until eventually a treaty was reached by all leaders. 

**_“The Library Archive will be entrusted to the care of the Citadel._ **

**_Its knowledge only perused by Archmaesters who remain cloistered in Oldtown – who have taken no placements and possess no external loyalties._ **

**_An order of Guards will be formed, their servitude lifelong, abandonment upon penalty of death._ **

**_These shall be named the ‘Knowledge Keepers.’_ **

**_Upon taking their oaths they forswear their former allegiances, consigning their life in servitude to the protection of the scriptures held therein._ **

**_They will swear a vow of secrecy and never breathe a word of the Halls they walk to anyone outside the order._ **

**_They will be sequestered off from extramural contact and dedicate themselves to shielding the very foundations of our society._ **

**_Keeping the ‘Knowledge’ from falling into any wrongful hands.”_ **

It was a bleak outlook for those avowed. Volunteers were few and far. 

_That was when conscripting began._

He would never forget the day he was tossed before the council of would be sovereigns. Blinking against the sudden light. 

They had been apprehended upon the road, wounded and exhausted after fighting their way free of the Brotherhood and the murderous revenant the outlaws called leader. Their subsequent imprisonment had felt long but Jaime had no real measure of duration. 

Pushing himself off the cobblestone floor, he had glanced sideways at Brienne, the Wench equally worse for wear but seemingly without permanent damage. Her homely face set like cement as the Dragon Queen called for his head along with ‘that of his accomplice.’ 

But they carried blades at their hips and a reputation as fierce warriors. News had travelled of what they accomplished against the Brotherhood. He was a former Lord Commander, she a noble swordswoman armed with Valyrian. A commodity too precious to become a Dragon’s meal. 

Daenerys was outvoted, fury flowing in her fiery blood as she was thwarted in her ultimate revenge. Brienne and Jaime were both sent to the Knowledge Keepers to live out their existence protecting inanimate objects and essentially wasting their lives.

_Still – it was preferable to death. Until I saw my chamber…_

Jaime chuckled to himself, dressing for his waking hours. Day and Night obsolete designations which gave no true indicator of the time. But his internal schedule knew the drill and sure enough, he had just finished pulling on his leathers and wools – a dull slate grey over brown, monotone and dreary – when the knock came at his door. 

_Three taps._ Pause. _Four taps._ Pause. _One knock._

The code used by a tongueless Brother to indicate he was due at his shift. 

_Masterminds – every last one of them._

His thoughts were sarcastic and bitter. He despised being surrounded by the type of people who were stupid enough to take their vows a step too far. They were delusional and believed themselves part of ‘something greater.’ They generally came from the Warrior’s Sons or a similar religious background which Jaime could not relate to in the slightest. To be partnered with them for an entire session roaming the musty corridors was tantamount to torture and enough to make him start ideating the concept of being roasted alive by Drogon.

He slipped through his door, creeping down the hushed halls of the Keeper’s Residence. The former stronghold of a minor Lord whose primary duty was tending the lighthouse which manned the coast. Now it was the closest inhabitable residence to the Library Archive and the Guards were crammed into small chambers, crudely fashioned by dividing rooms of a normal size. Making him feel as if a bee in a hive would enjoy more personal space.

He wolfed down breakfast – _gruel again, grey to match the uniform and the walls. How delightful. Even the pigs would be smart enough not to trade this for their slops –_ and began his brisk walk to the Rift, amusing himself by pondering which floor he would find himself posted upon today. 

Each shift was randomly selected, a pair of guards given to a single floor. With the most prestigious duty being the guarding of ground level. There several Keepers were positioned at the stairwells, inside the entrances and around Martin’s hallowed volumes of ‘A Song of Ice and Fire.’

But the final post upon the ground floor was arguably of greatest importance - unknown to the wider Kingdoms and the most sacred secret they guarded. 

The existence of a second doorway at the back of the building. 

It was discovered during the initial days, the Archmaesters finding it disquietingly unlocked, the knob turning readily in their decrepit hands. Measures were taken to secure it shut but just like the prior endeavours to destroy the building itself, the door was impossibly resistant, refusing to be permanently sealed. Where it led was anyone’s guess but opening it was expressly forbidden. Henceforth, protection against the potential threat of infiltration became another onus placed upon the Keepers and it was monitored by no less than half a dozen guards at any given time. 

As Jaime crossed the short bridge which lead to the library entrance, he could count the sentinels of their order standing side by side, making a shield wall between Westeros and the recondite building. The front was always allotted the heaviest presence, a deterrent to any invaders and many times in the beginning they had held off raids. Now all had settled, the people’s interest waning. But still the Keepers remained, never growing lax, the weight of two worlds on their shoulders. 

“Morning, night, evening – whatever time it is.” Jaime greeted cheerfully as he approached the Outside Door Commander. He always made sure to be exceptionally exuberant – he knew how much it bothered the sombre devout. “Where am I headed today?” 

“Upper storey, Supposition Section.” 

“Mmmmm.” Jaime nodded, making a show of being awed. _Good_ , _I won’t need my armour today. Only guards upon the Ground Level are required to wear metal._ “Haven’t been there before.” 

“We do not discuss such things.” 

“But surely there is no harm in my saying something so innocuous amongst ourselves?”

“No. The Knowledge is Sacred. The Secrets are Sacrosanct. Our Lips are Sealed.” 

“Perhaps for the best….” Jaime mumbled, shuffling through the doorway as it was opened for him. “… it was not as if your silence is depriving mankind of a scintillating wit.”

“One of these days I am going to find you with your lips stitched shut.” 

A grin spread across his face, at odds with his prior dolour. 

_Seems this place is not entirely without diversion._

Whirling around he saw Brienne approaching him, wearing her trademark expression of disapproval. Arms crossed over her chest and Oathkeeper at her hip. “When it happens… do not say you weren’t given ample warning.” 

“Are they resorting to corporal punishment now? Nobody told me.” He squinted as if trying to recall. “I’m sure I would have remembered that.” 

“For you they will pass the motion on the spot.” She frowned. “Hush now, while we are on the ground floor the minimum you can do is pretend to be obedient.” 

“We?” He felt his entire demeanour brighten, spirits lifting. “Do we have duty together?” It hadn’t happened in weeks and although Jaime was loath to admit it, he had come to look forward to when they were given time together. _I can spend the day teasing her if nothing else._

“Unfortunately yes.” Brienne sighed. “Why do you think I was awaiting your arrival? It is not my preferred pastime to stand around in the chance that we pass each other - I have far more important duties to attend to.” 

“Ahhh, but of course. We cannot keep the books waiting.” 

She grimaced at him but didn’t respond as they began the steep climb up the winding staircase.

Their assigned post for the day on one of the upmost levels. 

_Pointless really. Nobody is going to break in up there and if they did – they are probably welcome to what they find._

“Have you been up to Supposition before?”

“No.” She responded. “Shhhhh. At least until we get there.” 

Jaime huffed. Brienne was suited to this role. She was dour, stubborn and being quiet came naturally to her. He on the other hand felt strangled by the silences. That was when his pesky memories crept in. 

The arrived on their level, nodding dismissal to the previous set of Keepers as they took over. 

“Are there any Archmaester’s currently studying?” 

This was one of the few questions they were permitted to ask at the changing of the guard. It was commonplace to overlook one of the men going about their research and an amateur mistake which could hastily land a talker in trouble. 

The previous Keeper shook his head to indicate ‘no’ and Jaime took a deep breath as he listened to their receding footsteps echo in the emptiness. Leaving them blessedly alone. 

The Library Archive had the same layout on all levels, a narrow hall stretching down the middle with side rooms branching off. Within were shelves upon shelves of manuscripts and books, categorised by subject names on the doors with further sorting and often alphabetisation within. Some texts were properly presented, with leather covers and dust jackets. Others simplistically bound as if they were newer additions to the library. The latter was the kind he predominantly spied when he glanced in one of the rooms. He was glad for the mercy of newer pages. The air up here was stagnant but absent of the usual must which pervaded the levels devoted to more ancient texts.

“Now what?” Jaime enquired, leaning casually against the wall. “We haven’t seen each other for a few sennights – have you got anything interesting to tell me?” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. He knew full well her routine was just as mundane as his. 

“No Jaime. My answer is the same as every other time.” Her tone was patient and placating. Speaking to him as she would an incorrigible child. “What about you?”

“We had a moth crisis last week in Astronomy.” He made his voice conspiratorial. “It was quite the drama.” 

“I’m sure it was.” Brienne’s plain features were inscrutable, but Jaime made himself believe he saw the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. 

The interminable stillness crept up to swallow their stinted chat. Smothering fragments of communication before it had truly begun. The lack of material their repetitive schedule supplied dousing his hopes of having an actual conversation. 

He looked about the hallways, the lanterns flickering rhythmically, the warm glow emanating brighter from within the rooms where the illumination had to be strong enough for reading. 

“’Supposition….’” He tested the word on his tongue. “…. What do you think that means?”

“I ponder it not – I am no scholar.” 

“Aren’t you even the teensiest bit intrigued?” He bumped his shoulder against hers in a playful nudge. 

“We are not intended to be.” 

“See – that’s the part I do not get.” Jaime moved to stand next to her, telling himself it was the desire for human contact which drew him into her vicinity. “If we must swear our lives to these silences and we are not allowed to have contact with the outside world. Then why can’t we do a bit of light reading?” 

“The Citadel are scrupulous.” The Wench shrugged. “I can only surmise they do not want the books tampered with or the knowledge being misconstrued. They aim to tackle the mysteries one by one and ensure it is done thoroughly.”

“But look up here.” Jaime spread his arms wide, one with hand and one with stump, his golden hand long confiscated. Their stretched expanse almost encompassing the breadth of the tight hallway. “We will be dead a thousand years before those old bores even realise this level exists! And I’m curious…” He squinted at a sign on one of the doors. “Theories…” He moved to the next set. “….Crack, Tinfoil.”

“Jaime.” Brienne tapped her boot against the floorboards in agitation. “What are you looking to achieve? We don’t know what any of this means.”

“Well I’m hoping to find out. Just as soon as I find a category that seems familiar….”

He glanced at several more signs before pausing. It was only now he realised a slight difference in the architecture of this level. Instead of continuing with multiple entryways, the corridor came to an abrupt halt. A single door at the end leading to what was presumably an extremely large room. 

“Ships and Fic.” Reading aloud he nodded. “This seems good enough.” He placed his left hand on the knob and gave Brienne his most winning grin. “Are you coming Wench?” 

He couldn’t help but be drawn to her eyes, the dazzling depth of their blue visible even from a few feet away as they shifted nervously towards the stairwell behind them. 

_Naïve woman, does she not realise how they betray her? In her homely face they shine like jewels, pulling my attention and she can scarce disguise her thoughts._

“Do not be such a stickler, no one is coming.” Jaime answered her unasked concern. “When has a shift ever been interrupted? Especially when we are up so high.” Turning the knob, he placed a foot over the threshold and shrugged. “You grew up on an island – surely you must like boats.” 

She was straight on his heels when he entered, catching up to him in a few strides of her long legs. 

Jaime let out a low whistle as he registered the sheer enormity of the room in which they stood.

“Impressive – who’d have thought there was this much information on ships?” 

“Our Harbourmaster on Tarth taught me to identify many kinds of vessels. Galleys, skiffs, dromonds, cogs, carracks…. But even I could never imagine such extensive coverage of the topic.” 

“Well get reading.” He placed his hand behind her back and gave her a gentle shove forward, almost making her jump out of her skin. She glared at him wide eyed, affronted by the presumption of his informal contact. 

Jaime just chuckled. “Seven Hells Brienne – we were tied together once.” 

He wandered over to the rows, beginning to scan the directories affixed to every shelf end. “If you’re not going to read the tedious texts on boats I will.”

“Jaime please. You have had your fun; you’ve seen the size of the chamber.” She hissed it at him, keeping her voice still low. As though the nearest people were not on an entirely different level. “Now come back to the hall before we are caught. You’re not truly interested in the subject…”

“Maybe I am.” He wrinkled his nose. _These categories aren’t making any sense._ “Even reading about sails and hulls is better than staring at the walls.”

He ignored Brienne as she checked beyond the door for signs of company, the tension she was emanating ebbing when she was satisfied with their solitude. A queer sort of happiness filled his chest when she crossed to a cushioned chair, alighting upon it and resting her hands on her knees.

_She is staying – we can explore together._

“Wench…” He turned to face her. “… I’m starting to think my knowledge of boats is even more limited than I initially thought. These categories read as if a foreign language to me.”

“What do they say? Maybe I will recognise the terms.” 

“Jo..Jonerys.” Jaime sounded it out. “Jonsa, Jonmund – do any of these words ring a bell?” 

“No.” She shook her austere head, strawlike hair falling across her cheek. Tucking it back behind her ear she furrowed her brow. “Try another row.” 

“Alright.” He went to the one opposite. “SanSan…. Sanrion?” 

“You must be reading them wrong.” She huffed, vaulting from the seat and submerging herself amongst the shelves. 

_Well at least she is participating._

He was just about to join her when a category several rows down caught his eye. 

_Does that say…. Brienne?_

Jaime approached with interest, puzzling out why exactly it would have the very woman in this room’s name upon it. Below the sign it read ‘Crack Pairings and Lesser Known Ships.’ 

_Very odd._

Walking in, he ran his forefinger over the spines, some thin, some thick, some barely a page or two long. 

_I guess the only way to find out is to pick one and start reading._

Slipping a narrow volume from between the shelves he thumbed open a few pages. The first thing his eyes settled on was her full title - _Brienne of Tarth._

The second part made his eyebrows join his hairline and he slammed the book shut. 

_What in the world?!_

Whacking it unceremoniously down upon the shelf he pulled another two at random. A deep scowl darkening his handsome features. 

Opening the book midway through, he set his jaw, teeth gritting of their own accord. 

_Another._

The third was thicker and the worst of all. He crumpled the furled pages into the palm of his hand, uncaring about the purported ‘sanctity’ of these works. Lip curling as he tried to reign in his temper.

_What should I care - **Why** do I care? My reaction is nonsensical. _

_It’s…. amusing. I **should** find it amusing. _

_I am sure to find it amusing soon…._

He smacked the manuscript several times against his wrist, his breath snorting as it was propelled through his nose, his breakfast gurgling in his somersaulting stomach. The actions poorly containing the outburst which was winning its campaign. His composure lost, irrational behaviour taking control as he marched out to confront the woman he thought he knew. 

That was when he heard her growl. A deep primal sound of anger which he would have generally likened to an animal moreso than a person. Brienne barrelled out from between the shelves, sheets of text in hand, nostrils flared and a fury radiating off her in waves.

“What did you do with Lady Sansa?!” She snarled. 

“What?” 

“Don’t lie to me Jaime Lannister. Do not DARE lie to me!” She was clearly unconcerned about being heard now, her voice rising to almost a yell as she brandished the document like a weapon, thrusting it in his face. “You swore a vow. A sacred vow to her Mother and irrespective of what Lady Catelyn became it gives you no right to dishonour her in such a manner!” 

“Dishonour?” He spat. “Woman have you lost your wits?! I haven’t seen Lady Sansa since she fled King’s Landing… I – I sent you after her.” 

“That’s not what this says.” She paced an angry line and he could tell she fought every impulse not to unsheathe Oathkeeper and gut him on the spot. “They said you break oaths and I refused to believe them. I saw the good in you but never, NEVER did I think you were capable of this.”

“Well while we are speaking of capability.” His voice took on a deadly edge. “Do you want to divulge your liaison with Hyle Hunt and then tell me how you came to know my oldest friend!” Jaime wanted to be like his Father. Keep his tone even. But a firestorm of inexplicable hurt exploded from him, making him shout at the end of his sentence.

“Hyle Hunt? Liaison?” She at least had the temerity to look insulted. “I despise the man. I still cannot believe he escaped from Lady Stoneheart and left Podrick behind. He is a vile human.” 

“One you like in your cunt.” Jaime knew he was being coarse – but he was angry.

“Now you’ve gone too far.” Her flaxen hair splayed outwards as she shook her head rapidly. “You make up stories about me to try and deflect from your own misconduct. Lady Sansa was a maiden, an innocent entrusted to your care and you defiled her!” 

“I did no such thing!” 

“But it says it right here.” 

“I don’t care what it says!” He stalked towards her until they were inches apart. Standing their ground like two titans. Wrath sizzling in the air between them with a tangible friction. “Sansa Stark is but a girl. She is married to my brother I will remind you. I have not laid eyes upon her since before you and I even met.” 

“I want to believe you – but it says…” A part of her looked stricken, as though the tears were lying in wait just behind her eyes. Waiting for a falter in her will of iron to slither through. Birthing empathy in his heart, a protective desire surging within. She shook the document violently, shoving it at his chest. “…. this is very convincing and I know I am not worldly enough to make a sound judgement call.”

Jaime tilted his head and looked down. The strangely precise text these manuscripts were synonymous for laid out plainly before him – detailing a very explicit encounter.

_This is ridiculous._

“How do you know Addam?”

“Addam?” He watched her eyes, the intelligible expressive blue he could read more clearly than these cursed documents. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” 

“It says here that the two of you have had rather sordid encounters.”

“Jaime you know me.” This was worse than the outrage. She was hurt. “Would I do such a thing?” 

“You know me.” He countered.

“That’s different. You are a man. Men have needs. It is far more probable.” She worried her bottom lip. “I am a maiden. A fact which you are well aware of.”

“Things change. We were apart a long time.” 

“Do you question my morals and my virtue?” He could tell that she took deep offence to the allegation. “I know I am ugly but men have wanted me Jaime. Sure the reasons were wrong but contrary to popular belief I have had opportunity.” The azure of her eyes had begun to become watery. “I refused because I did not want them. Behind my mail and hideousness I am a Lady and I will not debase myself for anyone other than a man I want and love. I am not so desperate.”

“You could love them.” 

“Jaime!” Now she was shouting again. Ripping the manuscript from his grip and tossing it to the floorboards. Her previous reverence for the written words discarded. “I detest one and the other I have never met! It is lies! It’s all untrue.” 

“I believe you.” He did. For years he had been made a cuckold by Cersei, blind and stupid to her manipulations. But now having spent months in their silent posts he had ample time to analyse. Reliving memories and pinpointing the precise moments she played him for a lackwit. If anyone was capable of spotting a liar – it was Jaime.

_Brienne is guileless, she carries not one hint of deception._

“Wench…” His tone was soft. “… If the accounts of your fornicating are false, does it not stand to reason that the tales of me are untrue as well?”

Approaching footsteps made them both start. Jaime quickly yanking the other script from Brienne’s hand and dropping it on the nearest shelf. 

“Is everything all right in here?” Another Keeper stuck his head in the room suspiciously, peering about until his critical gaze fell upon the book on the floor. “We heard a commotion from the level below, I came to investigate. My partner remains at our post.”

Upon instinct, Jaime stepped forward, shielding Brienne. “Our apologies. It seems a rat has taken up residence on this floor. We found it dragging this precious scripture…” He stooped to pick up the thin tale. Holding it as if it was sacred. “… I cannot imagine why it would do such a thing. Perhaps it was hungry? I am just glad we intercepted before it could be gnawed upon. It ran off and we intend to make it a personal mission of honour to find the rodent before any other tomes are put in jeopardy.”

“Indeed. I hope you find it. Rats can be evasive creatures but left at large it could cause serious damage.” 

“We will not leave until it is caught.” Jaime said solemnly. “Though if you will excuse us, the more noise the more skittish the rat will become. Sound causes them to flee and we will have to lure him out. It may take a considerable amount of time.”

“Of course. If I see anyone making their way upwards, I will inform them not to disturb you.” 

“Thank you, that would be most helpful.” He smiled thinly as he saw the fellow Keeper off their floor. 

_That should buy us some extra hours together and privacy._

_We have a misunderstanding to mend._


	2. OTP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime & Brienne discover their 'One True Pairing' <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note rating change. :D

It was after a stint that Jaime broke the silence. 

They had arranged themselves on the plush chairs, slumped with sullen faces and purposefully refusing to look at each other. Swordbelts discarded along with their scabbards, propped up against a low table so they could slouch. Both moping for reasons neither fully comprehended. 

“Brienne –“ He circled carefully back to his earlier enquiry. The one that had begun this whole fiasco. “- what **_do_** you think ‘Supposition’ means?”

She inhaled, holding it for several beats before exhaling slowly. “From the formation of the word in the Common Tongue - my guess would be it’s derived from ‘supposed.’”

“Which would mean…” He pivoted on the chair, so they were eye to eye. “…. That these documents are not fact but possible theories and beliefs. Remember when we came down the hallway? ‘Theories’ was the first room.” 

“But then why would these theories be here and not there instead?” 

“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his blonde hair. “Maybe because they are about people and relationships.” 

Brienne’s marbles widened. She leant forward in her seat, her displeasure with him temporarily sidelined. “Jaime you just solved it.” 

“How?” 

“Relation – ships.” She smiled, revealing her crooked teeth. “Ships – must be a nickname for relationships and Fic the other word on the door – could be short for ‘Fictitious.’” 

Visibly relaxing she angled her head at him. “We have been duped Ser. Though I cannot begin to fathom how or why there would be tales partnering me in such an intimate way with Gods know how many men.” She shuddered. “It seems ridicule and mockery follow me wherever I go. My behaviour as a maiden can be exemplary but still rumours bringing my purity into question taint my reputation.” 

“Well in all fairness Wench, there was one about me as well.”

“That’s different.” She hugged herself tightly. “You are not judged by your maidenhood.” 

“No but – I am a faithful man. I have not sowed my seed as others have. It is harder for a man to refute. Look at our argument just then.” He gestured to the spot where they had stood. “I am sorry Brienne. I should not have interrogated you like that, nor should I have believed you anything less than the innocent woman you always have been. It was wrong of me. I do know you better than that. But I was upset by what I read. I worried that I had misunderstood you – that you weren’t who I thought I knew.” 

“I was plagued by the same.”

“One look in your eyes and I knew you were telling me the truth. Your sweetness is undeniable My Lady. No manuscript can take that away.” 

He looked at the carpet, a mixture of bashfulness and shame. Jaime wished he could grasp why insults flowed far more easily from his tongue than compliments and why the idea of putting his own shortcomings to voice in her presence, always made the words stick in his throat. This woman knew his innermost secrets, nothing he reiterated would come as a shock. But under the tensity of her noble glare, his disgrace seemed somehow amplified. 

“For me it is not so simple. Like you said everyone expects the worst of me. I am an oathbreaker and the stain does not wash away.” 

“Can you forgive me?” Brienne was freckles and firelight, the torches causing light to bounce from strands of blonde hair, dappled skin more noticeable in its intense glow. 

“Yes.” Jaime responded. “If you can forgive the way I spoke to you.”

“Done.” 

For a brief instant he wondered if between the pages of these novels, there was a metaphor capable of describing the bizarre attachment they shared. Their compulsion to sweep away their trade of jibes which coming from another would have rendered that person irredeemable. 

“We shouldn’t quarrel you know.” He winked, lightening the mood. “But now we know that these walls are filled with salacious reading – I suggest we go back and find something a little more appealing.”

“No thank you.” Planting her feet, she settled further into the chair. “I have had my fill of vulgarity.”

“Oh, come on Wench, it’s kind of funny in hindsight. Here we are tearing each other to shreds at the idea that we….” He trailed off at Brienne’s stunned expression, the way she intently stared, waiting for him to finish the thought. 

_What was I going to say?_

The answer came of its own accord, whispers from a buried place inside, far within the walls of feeling he disguised with humour and indifference. 

_…. would be with somebody else._

But that left another part of the sentence unspoken. The acknowledgment of who exactly they should be with. The flip side to the coin. 

“Never mind.” Jaime laughed it off. “Best we not discuss it, I don’t want to end up fighting again. I barely survived that first bout. You looked like you were ready to take my head off.”

“I was.” She replied with a surprising calm. The honest frankness which he appreciated tumbling from her lips. 

_Very full lips._

Leaping from his seat, Jaime made a point of skipping the rows they had just visited, instead investigating the ones marked with the strange names. 

“I am determined to figure this out.” He declared. “Though I don’t know how to make head nor tail of it. These categories are like riddles or tongue twisters that my brother used to enjoy. Gen-drya? Gend-rya? How in Hells do I say that?” 

“I’m starting to think it is sorcery.” She muttered. “Some arcane incantation which we cannot interpret.”

“Does that unnerve you?” Jaime could hear the quaver in her timbre, a rare inflection undermining her courage as he continued to pick his way over the lists, searching for clues in the cryptic titles. 

“I am dubious of anything that could relate to the dark arts since the shadow.”

_Oh… Renly._ His lip curled on one side, thankfully out of her line of vision. 

_Why must it always come back to him?_

“Well I am going to disprove your speculation.” A category caught his eye. 

_Lannicest? Hmmm – it almost sounds like my last name._

“Starting here.” He selected a book and began to read, Brienne’s watchful gaze trained upon him, awaiting his reaction. 

“Well?” She prodded. 

He sunk back against the shelf, needing the wooden framework for support. 

“Jaime!” Brienne pressed further. “What is wrong? You have gone pale.” 

She approached him slowly, her previous concerns dashed aside, replaced with genuine caring about his wellbeing. Her hand hovering slightly above his arm as she checked herself, ducking her head shyly and stopping just short of providing comfort. 

He knew his eyes must be clouded, the disturbance in his system evident. 

_I can hide nothing from her – we know each other too well._

“You know how they say you shouldn’t look into yesterday?” 

“Yes – it is an old adage.” 

“I think I just did.” He slammed the cover shut, returning it to the empty slot. “And it wasn’t pretty.”

Brienne watched his movements with confusion. “Is it a history book?” 

“No - a colourful interpretation of incest past. One I would have rather not reliv-“ He blinked, realisation dawning. 

“Why did you stop?”

“Lannicest. Lannister… Incest.” His grin stretched broadly showing his teeth, gleaming with the glory of solving the enigma. “See Wench? I told you I would figure it out. No cypher required – the words are just joined together.”

She pursed her lips, weighing the possibility. “That almost seems too simple.” 

“And yet it works!” 

He browsed each of the strange denominations with renewed interest. Mentally splitting the syllables in different places in the hopes of puzzling out the individual words. 

“How do they decide what phrasing to use?” 

Brienne came up behind him, working on the same conundrum. 

_She would gladly prove me wrong just for the sport of it – but I’m pleased she’s joining in._

However his concentration faltered when he felt the heat of her breath against the nape of his neck, teasing apart his locks of blonde hair. 

“They’re names. Not words.” She announced. “The unfortunate one you found was the exception not the rule.” 

She pointed with a lengthy finger, tracing the lettering they stood beside. It was the first time Jaime had noticed the way the pale speckles which coated her skin extended over the back of her hand. Dotting flesh which was otherwise so ivory, he could outline the veins beneath. 

“That name is Jon.” Brienne made a chopping motion, indicating the point of sever. “By the unique arrangement of the ending I would wager the other name is Daenerys.” 

“Or Aerys.” He offered, resulting in a withering glare and a raised eyebrow. 

“Honestly Jaime? You really think these tales are about a Mad King and Ned Stark’s bastard?”

“Could be Jon Arryn.”

She groaned in pure exasperation, the sound causing his heart to pump faster. “Just admit I’m right!” 

“When you concede that **_I_** solved it.” Jaime smiled cockily, relishing their game. 

“You needed help.”

“You stuck your crooked nose in.” 

“If I hadn’t you would be staring at the same word for our entire shift. The discovery was a joint effort at best.”

“No, no, no. I would have gotten it in the end. I already saw your name on the directory for one of the rows earlier – I was over halfway there!” He shook his head deliberately from left to right, painstakingly extending the duration of their verbal match. Their rapid exchange the nearest experience to duelling in which they could engage. 

_And it feels fantastic, she is so stubborn we could argue all night – and we know the night has no end._

Jaime banished the tell-tale glee from his face. “Besides – your pronouncement of who _exactly_ it refers to is pure assumption. There are any number of people with names that could fit.” 

“Impossible. Realism must play a part.”

“And our findings so far have indicated that? Because I would argue the opposite was proven.” 

“So, it is proof you want?” Brienne squared her shoulders. 

_She savours this as much as I do._

“Then I shall procure it.” She disappeared down the row in pursuit of evidence, leaving Jaime congratulating himself. 

_The Wench may think she will win this way – but I am the true victor, for I made her begin to read the manuscripts again._

Quietly chuffed he went in search of his own entertainment, veering off to a large section they had yet to investigate. Here several lanes of shelves were filled, end to end, packed tightly. The topic which dominated such a large amount of the chamber denoted by a single word – ‘Braime.’ 

The gold lettering repeated over and over, marking each shelf with the lone topic, the expansive range of texts devoted to this coupling suggesting a high degree of investment. 

Only for a moment did Jaime stop to ponder the word, playing the game of breaking it down and sniffing out the identities upfront. His attention waning as he grew tired of decoding. 

_I have always been a risk taker and this pairing is clearly popular. Coming off my last regrettable selections surely my luck is due to change..._

He chose a thick volume, leafing through with his eyes shut. Picking the page by arbitrary selection, letting the spine rest upon his stumped wrist as his forefinger chose the paragraph. 

_I think here…_

Popping his eyes open he began to read. 

_He hitched Brienne’s leg over one hip, bracing her between the solid wall and his throbbing groin. His left hand trailing up her thigh, lifting her skirt and reaching between her legs, stroking her slit through her soaked small clothes._

_“Jaime…” Her gravelled voice implied just how much she wanted this. Wanted **him.**_  
  


“Wench!” His emeralds were agog, practically jumping out his head as he spluttered with poorly contained mirth. “Come quickly – you won’t believe what I’ve found!”

“What’s wrong?” Annoyance permeated her countenance as she met him in the aisle. Fingers carefully threaded between sheets of the novel she had been reading, marking pages for use to support her argument. “You are being loud enough to summon every guard in the entire building…”

“It’s worth it. Believe me. Drop what you’re doing.” He pulled the open book to his chest so he could wave his hand, encouraging her to abandon their former task. “You’re right. You were entirely and completely correct –“ He ensured his tone was steeped in satire for good measure. “-now come here and read this.”

Frustratedly she acquiesced, inquisitiveness winning out over doggedness. 

“Only because you conceded.” Deserting her own manuscript, she held out her arms. “Go on then, show me what is so important.” 

“I think I’m going to keep a hold of it.” Raising it in front of his face, he hid behind the cover, disguising his ebullience as he flipped to the next section. Locating where the scene got even juicier.

“Ahh – here we are.” Keeping an iron grip on the top of the book he held it on an angle between them, so they could both clearly see the text. “Read this.”

_Jaime plunged into her, revelling in her tightness. The slickness of her middle squeezing the length of his shaft. He groaned, sinking into her over and over. A hot, crazed frenzy where both of them just wanted more - more. Brienne’s nails dug into his shoulder; other palm pressed to his ass. Urging him inside her - faster, harder. He pulled a pert nipple into his mouth, suckling, grazing it with his teeth._ _While his fingers travelled down to between their joining, teasing her sensitive nub until she ground into his hand._

Many times, Jaime had seen Brienne blush but never before had she quite achieved this shade of flaming scarlet. It engulfed her from cheek to neck as her jaw went slack, gaping soundlessly. The show was utterly enthralling. The initial embarrassment at the erotic content, giving way to speechless shock. He knew the very moment she caught a glimpse of her name – drawing her own persona into the mental picture - embroiled in such risqué activities with _him_. 

Her hand flew to her face, covering her mouth and providing a shield as if she could dodge the mortification, but her fingers were left splayed. Eyes darting back and forth as she finished the passage. 

“Jaime.” She croaked out, her voice a strangulated squeak. “Give me that right now.” 

“What? I didn’t read that line.” He held it teasingly behind him, out of her reach. “It does sound like it suits the situation though….”

“That’s not funny.” Her head swung wildly from side to side. “I’m – I’m humiliated…. Jaime give me the book.” 

“No, uh-uh. Not going to happen.” His feet remembered the agility of swordfighting, crossing with an effortless grace to spirit himself from her immediate radius. Thumbing through in search of more material. “I now know how my ancestors felt – stumbling across a goldmine.” 

“ _Ser_ Jaime.” Placing emphasis on his title was a definite sign he was vexing her. “In the interest of common decency, I ask you to desist. Give me the text. It details very delicate subject matter and to have you read of such feels quite intrusive.” 

“I’m in here too.” He pointed to his name, even though she couldn’t read it from the distance. “Were we not discussing the unfairness of these assumptions before? Why, I could be misrepresented! My skills as a lover inaccurately portrayed.” 

He returned to the page and guffawed. “Though I might say it doesn’t read that way… Look! You’re enjoying it…”

She tackled him. The force of her giant frame, knocking him straight into the floorboards, jarring his teeth and sending the book flying from his one-handed grip. He winced at the pain lancing through his rump, rebuking himself between roars of laughter, “I really should have seen that coming.” 

Brienne was already pushing herself up, glancing every which way, trying to find the fallen manuscript. He snaked his ankles over hers, his muscular legs locking her in place before she could spring upright.

When she scowled down at him, he brought his nose to hers, lowering his voice to whisper. 

“If you wanted to act it out - why didn’t you just say so? Though – we’re in the wrong position.” 

Jaime grunted, a swift elbow connecting with his ribs. His distraction allowing her to locate the book to the right above his head. 

_There’s that face, giving her away again._

Simultaneously they scrambled, a jumble of tangled limbs, jabbing and tugging at each other to hinder their progress, both desperate to reach the tale first. 

He pinned her wrist as she made a grab for it, flipping over onto his stomach and squirming forward. Barked chuckles accompanying his ragged breathing as she grabbed him around the shoulders and attempted to weigh him down. Her own exhales, blowing hotly into his ear. Fingers twined amidst his golden curls, yanking his head back. “Yield!” 

“Never.” 

He made a final attempt, lurching forward with all his strength. Landing them both in front of the open book. 

Emblazoned across the double page spread before them was a very detailed illustration. 

A full-length, lifelike depiction of writhing naked bodies ensnared in a lover’s embrace. Their identities indisputable - blue eyes staring into green, a stumped wrist caressing her milky thigh, left fingertips fondling the gnarled bite mark on her cheek. 

Jaime heard her gasp, large hands flying forward and smacking over the lewd image. Brienne rolled from him faster than lightning, foiling any plans he may have entertained about regaining control of the content - by sitting upon it. Her hulking mass immovable even with his brute force. She suspired in one protracted gust. Cheeks still vibrant pink but a triumphant smugness playing at her mouth. 

He craned his neck to look up at her, sighing. “Well you’re no fun.” 

“That was obscene!”

“Which part?” He rested his chin in his hand casually. “Describe it to me?” 

“You are insufferable.”

Grinning, he rolled onto his back, staring at the textured paint on the ceiling and calling to mind the flash of image he saw. “You know the likeness wasn’t bad – for either of us.” 

“Must you?”

“What is there to shrink about? I have seen you naked in the flesh. A work of art is tasteful by comparison.” 

“I saw where my legs were….” The remark was mumbled to herself and for once Jaime pressed his lips together, sparing her from his jests. 

_I saw where they were too._

He felt his cock stir and decided now was the time to sit up. “You do realise you can’t stay there forever?” 

“I will give it a valiant try.” 

“What about when you have to make water?” 

“I am grateful for my foresight. I limit drinking before a shift for that very reason.”

Jaime surveyed the shelves around them, the dozens of spines staring at them almost in amusement. As if they were watching the very subject they championed play out in actuality….

“Gods be good Brienne – I never stopped to think.”

“What now?”   
“Here we are grappling over a single manuscript when we sit amongst an entire section dedicated to the possibility of us fucking.” He slid across the polished floorboards to one of the lower shelves, running his finger over the numerous volumes. “Isn’t that extraordinary?” 

“How do you know they are all about us?” 

“Our couple name is on the row. Several rows in fact. Apparently, we are ‘Braime.’” 

“Brienne and Jaime – at least they put me first.” Her delivery was wry and he felt a pang of pity. _The Wench is so reserved, she must find this confronting._ “I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am. It just took me great lengths to wrest one from you and now you reveal I am surrounded.” 

“Silver lining?” He procured another from the shelf and began to peruse it, stretching out his legs and settling his back against the shelves. “This is far better than books on galleys.” 

Brienne scooted over to lean herself against the stack opposite, moving the book along beneath her for the whole journey. 

_Pig-headed woman._

She observed him morosely, putting in a monumental effort to instil a guilt complex within him. 

“Shall I read aloud?” He enquired. 

“No!” 

“Oh – so you would rather not know what we are getting up to? Have it your way. I shall keep all your tantalising dirty secrets to myself.” 

He continued to quietly read, immersed by the effort which was put into the build-up. Surprised and bewildered at how much insight these unknown authors seemed to have into his private monolog. 

After a stretch his peripheral vision spied her hand creeping into a shelf. Wriggling a tome from the selection and cautiously lowering it into her lap. With tentative fingers she peeled back the cover, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she started to scan its contents. 

_Uncanny – I just read her doing that a couple of pages ago._

“If you find anything particularly good… do share.” 

“Depends on what you define as ‘good.’” She countered, peering out from beneath her lashes. “You do the same.”

They descended into a comfortable silence. Neither talking but both still focussed on the other. The real-life reactions going on opposite them and the fantasy taking place between the pages. 

Jaime traded novels a couple of times, searching for tales of a particularly raunchy nature. The sexual scenes greatly amusing and also quite arousing. 

“I’ve got one!” He sat forward enthusiastically. “Listen up Wench – you may find this educational.” 

_“Jaime licked at her clit, in slow circular motions. Nose buried deep in her folds, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal and just... Brienne. His fingers buried deep inside her, moving in unison with his tongue, setting a sensual rhythm as she gasped. Her thighs clamping shut around his ears in response to the wave of pleasure….”_

He paused, marking his place. “Do you want to read your own line? I don’t think I can do a passable impression.”

“No.” She answered flatly, the blush had returned with a vengeance.

“Suit yourself.” Shrugging he picked up where he left off. 

_“Jaime!”_

_He pushed up on his elbows, nipping at her inner thighs so she would loosen her grip and chuckling. “I have to breathe Sweetling.”_

He closed the book with a smirk. “Nothing like a Lord’s Kiss. Are you familiar with the term?” 

“I’m not going to venture on this topic with you Jaime. So, you may as well save your breath.” 

Brienne made a point of turning her own page, squinting as though she were engrossed. 

From that moment forward – Jaime made it his personal mission to find a passage which would get a reaction out of her. 

“Wench! Wench…” He hooted with laughter a short time later. “…. you have to hear this! It’s a rhyme and worse than even what I could come up with.” He swiped the glistening tears of hilarity from his eyes. 

_“Oh Jaime, oh Jaime she cried,  
My Jaime, my Jaime she sighed,  
Fuck all my pride,  
I want you inside,  
And then her legs opened wide...”_

“I see why that was relegated to the bottom shelf.” Brienne answered dryly, refusing to even crack a smile. “It’s awful.”

“It’s terrible!” He agreed. “But it’s deliberately bad – which is what makes it very funny.” 

“I don’t perceive the humour.” Her tone was flat. “Taking something that should be sacred between two people in love and making mock. It seems sad to me.”

“Brienne – why are you always so serious? It’s just a bit of nonsense. It’s supposed to make people laugh.” 

“I am not cheerless. I just don’t feel the need to profane the act between a man and woman. For some it is trivial whilst to others it represents something greater, more meaningful.” Her sombre intonation allowed him to feel the gravity behind her view. “And if you saw it as so inconsequential then why have you never had dalliances? Engaged the services of whores?” His irreverent chuckles ceased and she gave him a knowing smile. “Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not Jaime. If you are endeavouring to horrify me, it serves no purpose. I know the truth – I’ve had it from your very mouth.”

Thwarted in his quest to provoke outrage or amusement, he doubled his efforts to find a notion she would find exceedingly scandalising. 

_If I can’t get a laugh, I will have to settle for another blush. The pinking of her cheeks is strangely becoming, it makes her eyes appear even more blue. And she gets so incredibly awkward about it, she fidgets and stutters…_

He wasn’t certain why he suddenly found himself ruminating over those attributes but once the idea had entered his head – he became quite fixated upon it. Flipping haphazardously through countless chapters trying to find just the right scene. 

_I blame these books; they have influenced me. Made tiny traits endearing, fostering my captivation with her … fuck. Did it already exist?_

He blinked twice, trying to push the epiphany away. Settling impulsively upon a paragraph he hadn’t actually read through. 

_Close enough – I need distraction._

“Let’s have your thoughts on this then…”

Brienne drew her knees up to her chest, looping both long arms around them and giving him her undivided attention. Forbearance the resounding theme of her entire countenance. “Proceed then. There will be no peace until you do.” 

Jaime cleared his throat. 

_“’Fuck, Brienne. Fuck! Yes there, there….’_

_He fisted one hand in her hair, his stump braced against the bed. Hips bucking wildly as he thrust into the warm, wet cavity of her mouth. Brienne moaned around his length, laving the head with her tongue. Sapphire orbs gleaming up at him, more alluring and beautiful than any set of eyes had a right to be. He stared into them intently, losing himself simultaneously in the depths of her mouth and soul._

**_They will be my undoing....”_ **

_Fuck._

The sentences that were meant to fluster Brienne had disclosed his weakness instead. Descriptively homing in on his ardent infatuation with her eyes. 

_That didn’t go as I had planned._

He was poorly stringing together a jape to smooth it all over when he heard her ask. 

“Is that possible?”   
  


“Is what possible?” 

She dragged her blunted nails over the knee of her breeches, pulling the fabric as she spoke. 

“That a man could be spurred towards release by a woman’s eyes.” She absentmindedly pinched the material between forefinger and thumb, rubbing them together as a diversion from the conversation at hand. “I thought it was all breasts and backsides.” 

“Depends on the man.” Jaime shrugged. 

“What about you?” 

If he was not mistaken, he detected a tinge of hope; permeating her voice, imbuing her stare. 

“I could very much drown in pools of blue, just as easily as I could smother myself in cleavage.” 

He recollected her almost non-existent buds, small nipples protruding from an otherwise relatively flat chest. _An origin of inhibition – which I can allay._ “I am exceedingly fond of breasts – regardless of their size. But if anything, I’d say my preference is for the former. There’s just something about eyes that entrance me.” 

_Your eyes especially._

An almost unseen expression overtook her face, warm and soft at the edges, smiling somehow without even moving her mouth. 

_Was that …. joy?_

But she recovered from the lapse in self-control swifter than he could blink, nodding her thanks. “You were right – this has been educational.” 

“Well…you’re welcome.” 

This silence was uncomfortable. A tension existing between them which had not been present previously. Or rather - had it always existed? Only now he was attune. Vibrating on the frequency which had been emitted throughout their entire acquaintance. Like the birdsong someone hears after years of walking the same garden. Did the birds really just move in? Or perhaps he had never stopped to listen before….

“You haven’t shared anything.” He pointed with his nose towards the bundle of books at her side. “Surely you found one passage worthy of sharing.” 

“I found several. I’m just not sure you’d appreciate them. Your preferences in reading material are obviously different to mine.”

“You never know Wench; I might like to hear them.” 

“I think not.” She shook her head. “I know it is easy to forget - but I am a woman Jaime. Afflicted with romantic sentimentalities which men do not seem to delight in the way we do.”

“I’m romantic.”

He tried not to be insulted when she chortled, low in her throat. 

_At this – she laughs._ He thought bitterly. _Even if the sound is surprisingly musical…_

“Brienne! I am.” Jaime pouted, trying to be convincing. Her belief in this part of him suddenly of extreme importance. “You may not know it – because I keep it in here.” He banged on his chest for emphasis. “I have always been driven by love. I’m just not very wise about it.”

“I can relate.” 

He wanted to make a follow-up query but she timidly offered him an open manuscript. 

“Third passage on the left.” She sat back as he took it, returning to her own material. “I will not read it aloud.” 

Jaime settled the open novel on his lap, beginning to read where instructed. 

_“I will take all of you.” Brienne pulled him up from bended knee, clasping his stump between her oversized hands. “And you are not unworthy Jaime Lannister. You are a good man - kind, loving and a true knight.” She kissed the puckered flesh of his wrist, the scar simply another line from their story. Making him a hero rather than a cripple. “Look what you did for me. I could never, ever see you as anything less than whole.”_

It moved him. The emotions tugging upon the strings of his heart. 

“Well chosen.” He handed it back to her amidst a plethora of stirrings. The strongest of which was an overarching desire for it to be true – for her to really feel that way about him. 

_That is an unattainable aspiration. I am Kingslayer, Sisterfucker, Oathbreaker - she would never view me so highly._

“I think I was proposing in it – am I right?” 

“Yes, you were.” She answered, placing it in a designated pile. Avoiding looking directly at him.

An errant thought nagged at him. A skewed observation, telling in its own obscure way. 

_She wouldn’t even contemplate the books partnering her with other men – Brienne was offended by them. Driven to anger. But here she sits serenely reading very explicit, highly emotive content between her and I._

_Compiling a list of favourites – which I will surmise are in that bundle…._

_“_ Do you have another? I admire your taste.” 

She searched his face for derision, but it was wholly sincere. “I would keep them private.”

“Please?” Once he had peeked through the window to her predilections, he did not wish the drapes to shutter. 

“I-“ She wanted to include him, he could tell. But a thousand insecurities held her back. “I don’t think I should…”

“I won’t tease you Brienne. Not on this.” He avowed. “Trust me, My Lady.” 

Jaime extended his hand out, palm upwards, waiting for her sign of faith. 

Her chest rose and fell, as she picked up a manuscript, cradling it warily in her hands. “Promise me.” 

_Confidence in people does not come easily to her, if only I could find the louses who inflicted such scars. But I will not be like them – or at least not anymore._

_Not to Brienne. I don’t want to hurt her…._

“I swear it.” It was his word of honour – how much that was worth, only she could measure. “You will be met with no scorn from me on this subject. Be it sweet, amorous or passionate.” 

“You have my reliance upon your vow.” She deposited the novel into his hand, slipping his thumb into position on the page she’d marked. “Please don’t make me rue my decision.” 

“I won’t Brienne.” He was genuine. 

Jaime burned with interest as he located the passage denoted by his thumbnail. 

_What does Brienne cherish so much that she feels the need to protect it?_

When he saw the words, the reason was abundantly clear…

_“I love you.” She meant it. From the innermost depths of her soul._

_When Brienne looked at Jaime she could forget her disfigurements and scars. The unconditional love he wore openly on his face washing away years of torment and hurt. **Acceptance... That is love.**_

****

His pulse thrummed in his veins, heart drumming a rhythm he thought it had forgotten. Only the tune was different this time. A tempo steady and appealing, without the off-beats and painful interruptions he had felt in its previous renditions. As though that was just the practice piece, and this was the performance of a lifetime. 

Jaime picked up a tale he himself had earmarked. Unfolding his legs and crawling across the narrow divide of the row, almost losing his balance as he toppled on his stump.

Brienne’s hand flew out, catching his shoulder and steadying him. “What in the world are you doing?” 

He planted himself directly beside her, squeezing so close their thighs brushed. “Sitting with you.” 

“There is plenty of room….” 

“I want to be close.” He dropped the book in her lap, using his now free hand to rake away the curls that had fallen in his eyes. “I want us to read this one together.”

She flipped until she found the page with the folded corner, smoothing out the crease and frowning at him in disapproval for damaging the manuscript. Resting the spine in the crook of their joined thighs, one page on each of their legs. 

“From here…” He pointed. 

  
_“How long?” His eyes shimmered. “How long have you loved me?”_

_“Since you shouted ‘sapphires.’” She responded shyly, studying the tips of her boots. “When did you first realise your feelings for me?”  
_

_“The bear pit. There was this feeling I couldn't explain pulling me to you - calling me back to you.” Jaime ran his fingers through her short blonde hair. “It was always meant to be us Brienne, it was written - me and you.” He had never been so sure of anything in his life._ _“_ _We were destined to love each other.”_

Her cautious gaze raised to meet his own, uncertain what she was reading. If it was just a passage of writing selected for its prose – or a declaration with a far more profound meaning. Her azure brimmed with an unassuming optimism, incredulity threatening to drown it out, each second he paused guttering the breathtaking light ignited within them by her hope.

And with that acknowledgment the final pocket of his resistance surrendered, laying down arms and finally admitting to himself what he had always known. 

_I love her. I am in love with Brienne of Tarth._

Jaime cupped her chin in his hand, tilting his head and closing the small space to her lips. Answering her doubts with a kiss which allowed no room for misgivings. His right arm wrapped around her waist, sliding her closer, the book shutting itself as it teetered and dove to the floor. 

His mouth was firm against hers, fingers gliding affectionately over the skin of her cheek. Charting pathways of freckles and brooks of scars with equal tenderness. 

But he knew all was right in the world when her hands found their way to his body, one slipping demurely over his shoulder, holding on to the back of his neck as if she could prevent him from changing his mind or pulling away. The other outlining the length of his chiselled jaw in slow worship. 

_She wants this._

He grinned - the motion temporarily pulling his lips from hers, and he saw her panic until she registered his happiness. Returning it with a modest smile, exquisite it its imperfection. Oversized mouth and uneven teeth adding to its novel charm. 

_For years I have wanted to see her smile at me like that – and it was well worth the wait._

He leant back in, interchangeably pecking and beaming. Letting her feel his rapture and his unabashed adoration of all that made her unique. 

_All that makes her Brienne. **My** Brienne._


	3. NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests ;)

Escalation was not something he expected. 

He knew Brienne was innocent, unschooled in the ways of love. Jaime accepted the boundaries she would rightfully invoke from the second he moved in and claimed her lips. Each kiss he was gifted by her wondrous mouth fully welcomed but without the assumption of anything more to follow. 

Her love was a spark on kindling, requiring gentle fanning to burst into flame. It could take weeks, months, years or never and Jaime would not complain. The blessing it was to have this noble, exemplary woman kissing him was more than he deserved.

_If only my urges would agree._

He warred against the desire in his body, libido a beast who did not take kindly to being tamed. His attraction did not understand the pacing of a new experience, his yearning to explore every inch of her naked flesh with his mouth seeming perfectly logical to his sensual side. 

_But first and foremost, I respect her – so I will treat her as the Maiden herself._

_Unless of course, she instructs me otherwise…_

“You are masterful at kissing Ser.” 

He laughed despite himself, enchanted by her markedly virginal comment. Her expression puzzled and slightly wounded by his levity. “What did I say wrong?” 

“Nothing my Sweet.” He trailed kisses from her brow to her nose. “You are just too pure for words.” 

“Howso? I thought myself quite bold to make such an assertion.” 

“You were and I appreciate the compliment.” He lowered his tone conspiratorially, even though there was no one to hear but countless books. Their gathered collections hastily abandoned when they realised loving in reality trumped perusing it on a page. “But we have not even kissed properly yet.” 

“Do not hold back upon my account.” It was breathy and sincere. Pupils dilating at the concept. “Though might I ask what you have yet to demonstrate?” 

He leant his forehead to hers, tips of their noses touching. “There is a reason I wouldn’t let them take my tongue – and it wasn’t talking.”

Swooping in again, he reprised their kisses. Starting with soft touches and leisurely intensifying the contact. She whimpered as he licked her lips gradually apart. His tongue asking hers to dance when it finally slipped beyond the velvety curtain of their sweet plumpness. Her mouth a grand ballroom as they twirled and spun to the melody of quiet sighs. 

His ardour wanted to push against her, encourage her to lie upon her back. His more chivalrous impulses reining it in, personifying a gentleman. But Brienne was ahead of him, responding to his advances with a fluidity less of a maiden and more a woman overcome with yearning. Lowering her body until her spine ran horizontal, pressed against the floorboards. Her strong body bearing his weight with ease, alleviating his need to lean on his stump. His bent knee slotting between hers in perfect symmetry. 

_We fit like a glove…_

She kissed the stubble of his bearded chin, lipping at the bristles, grazing them with her teeth. The small spikes chafing the delicate skin around her mouth to a raw pink, each heavenly swipe resonating far lower in his groin. Making his cock strain painfully against his breeches, jutting into her thigh in unmistakable eagerness. 

Brienne shifted against his protruding bulge, testing the unfamiliar feel of a man’s arousal against her. Rubbing her leg across his laces almost suggestively, spawning the most delicious friction. Inadvertently increasing his hardness. 

Jaime groaned into her ear, dragging her lobe between his teeth, nibbling at places he knew she would never have considered stimulating before this interlude. Awakening her to the capabilities of her body; trained stringently for battle but neglected and overlooked when it came to the possibilities of her gratification.

_But no longer…_

Jaime took his time, luxuriating in attending to her untapped pleasure points. Logging the places where his affectionate nips elicited a high-pitched cry or caused her hips to arch into his. Want hastily becoming indistinguishable from need, a mutual ache transferred from one to the other with each skim of lips and clutching fingertips. Intensifying everytime they shared their unspoken desire, until it hung thickly in the air, its aroma more overarching than the scent of leather and dust lined shelves. 

His knee went numb from supporting his weight, falling asleep after a period of discomfort he didn’t even notice – so enraptured was he in his explorations. But age was a factor he hadn’t taken into account as it buckled beneath him, landing him face first beneath her chin. Jaime chuckled, seizing the opportunity to unthread a few rungs of her jerkin, suckling upon her collarbone and leaving a ruby necklace of chained love marks in his wake.

“Is this better?” Brienne murmured, parting her legs beneath his frame, wrapping their incredible length around his thighs and settling him snugly against her womanhood. “It feels more natural.” 

_Gods – does the Wench not know what this is doing to me?_

“Comfortable?” He licked his lips, feebly fending off the hankering to rut against her centre. “In some ways very – in other ways….” Jaime squeezed his eyes shut, summoning all of his will power. “… utterly unbearable.” 

“I think it is the same for both of us.” Her voice was low, laced with longing as she dragged the pads of her thumbs gently over his eyelids, feathering kisses upon them until they crinkled at the corners when he grinned. Fluttering them open to find her mesmerising pools barely an inch away. 

“Shall we relieve each other’s burden?” She asked it so politely, as if inviting him for a stroll – but the hidden offer revealed raw hunger. 

“If that is what _you_ truly want Brienne.” He nuzzled into her temple, giving her time to think. “My answer is doubtless - but you have far more to consider and I would never demand anything of you.”

“I told you earlier what I believe...” She combed her fingers through his hair as she spoke, as if she was putting his fears to rest and not the other way around. 

_Even in this she is collected and calm – she is a wonder._

“…And that I have certain conditions which must be met…” Jaime felt her ribcage jounce beneath him as she suppressed amusement. “… so why don’t you tell me if _you_ are the right choice in _your_ opinion?” 

He mentally replayed all their previous conversations, filtering through their verbal games of bluff and bluster. Finding the precious information she let slip, the keys to her dreams which now appeared quite prophetic. 

_Or maybe we were both telling each other more than we intended – using the occasion to convey our private thoughts. Leaving clues to the verity of our romantic relationship, pre-existing before we even stopped to address it with ourselves._

“I am.” He declared it with absolute conviction. “Because I love you.” 

“And I love you.” Brienne’s hand slid up his abdomen palming the wool and leather, travelling over the sculpted muscles of his chest. “It seems a very wise decision to me. That the man whom I love should claim my maidenhead.” She stopped at his ties, toying with the ends. “Now – shall we divest ourselves of this clothing? It is not such an intimidating thought. As you’ve reminded me tonight, you have seen me unclad before.” 

Without waiting for his reply, she started to work on his fastenings. Her impatience to see them both naked and sated simply reaffirming how she was his ideal woman.

  
“Your enthusiasm is commendable wench - but I am here to think of you. Mayhaps leave your shift on. The timber will be coarse against your back...” He grazed his teeth along her alabaster neck, sampling her sprinkling of speckles as Brienne shouldered out of her jerkin. “.... And these activities can get rather vigorous.”  
  
“But I don't wish to deprive you, nor be deprived myself-”  
Her sentence faded into a mewl as he ran a hand over her small breasts, kneading the slight rounding through the soft wool before travelling down and coming to rest in the curve of her hip. Lingering there so as not to get in the way as she worked on loosening her own breeches.  
  
“And what do you fear missing out on?”

“I want this whole experience; to feel the warmth of your chest against mine, your mouth suckling upon my teats.”

Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Adventurous Wench, where did you hear of that?”

“You read it before.” A faint pinking of her cheeks. “And you did say you cared for bosoms irrespective of size…”

“Well my learned seductress we shall compromise - I will unlace you only to your navel. That way you are protected from harm but exposed to my ministrations.”

  
  
Once again he chortled as he found the majority of criss-crosses already undone, her dexterous fingers having made short work of their garments whilst they talked. “I could have helped!”

“I was being considerate; all the books said you would struggle with laces. Have I wronged My Lord? Did you wish to undress me yourself?”

  
In response he swept his hand down her sternum parting the fabric to reveal her two perfect pink buds. 

“I am not dismayed…” He took the right between forefinger and thumb, tweaking it until she gasped. “…. There is much more fun to be had.” Jaime winked suggestively. “As my lady requests.” 

Lowering his head, he drew the left between his lips, alternating between tonguing and tugging to the rhythm of her pants. Each rise of her chest pushing the peaked flesh further into his mouth, encouraging him to suckle, the heaving of her breasts mirroring the lilt of her exclamations. 

Jaime lifted his head, releasing her nipple with a soft, wet sound; the sight of it standing stiff and shining from his tongue causing his loins to throb. 

“All they described?” 

“Better.” She rasped, wriggling from her breeches. Punctuating her point by rolling them down the length of her legs and tossing them aside. “I want more of you.”

She pulled his undershirt off over his head and Jaime snatched at her lips the second his face emerged. Capturing her in a fevered kiss, whilst his skin itself vibrated to the exquisiteness of her preliminary attentions. Dragging her nails down his back, running a timorous fingertip between the ridges of his chiselled torso. 

“I’m yours Brienne,” he purred into her ear. “You can touch me in any way you want.”

“You too in return.” She gifted him a retiring grin as the awkwardness became too much, hunching up her hulking frame and burying her face into his shoulder. Smothering it with kisses while she was there. 

It was more than his wildest imaginings, Brienne’s lips against his clavicle. The untouched cove of her inner thighs canting into his pulsating crotch. He felt like the world’s biggest fool for never pausing to envision them like this. Too blinded by his arrogance and their established pattern of antagonism to realise their full potential, eclipsing camaraderie and diving straight into mind blowing passion. 

_The years of loving that we wasted – best make up for lost time…._

He walked his hand down her stomach, past her navel. Deliberately ensuring she knew his direction and had the chance to halt him if she objected. Jaime paused to gauge her reaction when he carded his fingers through the blonde curls of her mound, stroking his way to her slit with considerate slowness. Taking note of her laboured breathing, the way she nosed into the crook of his neck, pathing her journey with pecks and licks which stoked a firestorm in his soul. Raising her hips just enough so that her most intimate of parts connected with his ready fingers, the angle an enticement for him to proceed.

With that signal he plunged between her waiting petals, finding her superbly slick and sensitive as he massaged her bud with deft movements. Barely holding himself together as he registered her willingness, the way she was open and receptive to him – _only_ him. 

Brienne’s exhale whistled through her teeth when his index finger courted her entrance, slipping within to her susurrations of his name. Rocking it back and forth as he taught her virtue to flex, both physically and emotionally. 

“Jaime…” She unwound beneath him, limbs going lax, her height and might rippling in full glory under the influence of his touch. “…. what should I be doing? How do I repay…?” 

“My name is enough.” He stretched to meet her full lips. “It’s all I want - to know it’s me you crave. You don’t have to do a thing...” Their mouths crashed together like waves on a shore, tongues tumbling amidst the constant tide of pleasure. Swelling and building within them both, hers pushed ever closer to cresting, his mounting higher than a tidal surge during a tempest.

“Together...” Her voice took on a plea. “… I want it to be together. I don’t want to tumble over the edge on my own leaving you wanting….” She could barely string together the thoughts, her beseeching a muddle of whines and words. “… be one with me. You and I. Joined.” 

She reached between them, freeing his length from his breeches. The removal of the abrading fabric a blessed relief but rendering his rigid shaft unrestrained. Painfully close to exactly where it wanted to be. 

“You have to be sure, once we cross that line, there’s no going back…”

“Jaime if you stopped now - do you know how bereft I’d be?” Her tones were strangled, choked by desire and emotion. “Rejected. Rebarbative. Do not subject me to those feelings My Lord…. not on some misplaced conception of morals. I’m beneath you, I’m _aching_ for you….” 

Upon his heart those words were indelible, the essence of her candour literary. Her effusive imploring ingrained into his memory, writ in calligraphy and earnest. He thirsted for her with an equal agony, the gravity of Brienne’s orbit anchoring him to her. An impetus so irresistible an army a thousand legions strong could not prise him away.

_The Maid of Tarth is mine and I am hers._

But that title itself with transient, changing with the forward momentum of his hips. His manhood taking the former position of his fingers, gradually easing into the tightness of her centre. Jaime took his cues from her, giving respite from his advance when he felt her tense, kissing her until he transformed her wince to a sigh. 

He followed the intimations of her body, rising and falling to her cadence. His entire universe shrinking to consist solely of their coupling. Exhilarating in her warmth as she acclimatised to the introduction of his sword, her sheathe stretching to accommodate each thrust. Arms, legs and sodden depths inviting him in, encompassing him and accepting him as an extension of herself. 

Structure and coherence evaded them both, beings given over to the calling of carnality. Where the countless surrounding scripts and euphemisms had failed to adequately prepare them for this unprecedented bliss. 

“Brienne…” He was unravelling, the threads of self-control ripping loose every time he sunk into her core. “… are you with me?” 

_I want to satisfy you my love but I am close - so fucking close._

But his answer was plain – she was already there. Vaulting from the highest of pinnacles. Blue eyes beckoning for him to chase his own release as she cried his name into the alcoves. Shattering the silentium in ways that would make their unseen authors euphoric. 

_Hush be damned._

Jaime roared along with her, rejoicing in the poetic nature of his climax. That out of all the connotations, uncensored descriptions and erotic sensations – it was her eyes that brought him to completion. 

_Just as I told her._

He shuddered as he spent inside her. Collapsing into her waiting embrace. Descending from the clouds to arrive in heaven. Paradise shaped suspiciously like Brienne. 

“Who knew…” He chuckled when his breathing resumed a normal pace. “… that we would find the epitome of happiness with each other?” 

“Well I didn’t. And you certainly didn’t-“ Her mien was as composed as ever, as though she had just finished polishing Oathkeeper rather than having engaged in a torrid romp. The only giveaway the twinkle which extended from the corners of her lips, touching her sapphires and making her glow. 

_And of course, those flushed cheeks. Rosy with exertion and orgasm. My new favourite look for her._

“-But they did.” She gestured to the towering shelves, the scattering of books on the floor. “They knew that we were in love. Before we knew ourselves.” 

“Do you think they would be proud of us?” 

“I hope so…we have them to thank for this.” Her husky voice sent frizzles of desire straight through his system and he pulled her into a sloppy post-coital kiss. 

“What do you think they would want for us next?” 

Brienne raised a shoulder, a small line forming between her blonde brows. “The usual I suppose. Marriage, children. It is all out of context here. They weren’t to know we were forsworn to the Knowledge Keepers.” 

“About that…” Jaime propped himself up on his left hand so he could peer down at her. “… I have had an argument with this institution since the start. It is unfair and takes its oaths to utter extremes. Technically we only swore silence against sharing knowledge with outsiders… they mentioned nothing about amongst ourselves and we did not swear a vow of abstinence. Our love breaks no rules yet still they would forbid it. The only reason they aren’t swarming in here right now demanding explanations for our noise, is because I convinced them we were pursuing a rodent!” 

“They will not change though Jaime. If anything, they only grow more severe.”

“So what would you have us do? Seize stolen moments when we happen to be scheduled together? Make love in shadows? I have done it before and I’ll be damned if I do it again. What about when my seed takes root in your womb Brienne? What then?” 

“I don’t know, I never said it was ideal. Naturally I want to be with you every waking second - and sleeping for that matter. But we are unwanted by Westeros and the Crown, consigned to this role until our final days on penalty of death. There is no alternative…”

“There is.” His emeralds bore into her azure oceans, so she would know he was deathly serious. “A realm where we are wanted – celebrated even.” He lowered his tone until it was barely audible. “Through the second door.” 

“Jaime! We know nothing of that world!” 

“We do!” He smiled. “We know they created this – “ Waving his stump, he gestured energetically to the rows. “- Brienne they compiled the entire Archive Library. They constructed a gateway. They want us to go through it.” 

He was full of life as he drew her to him, crushing his mouth to hers before resuming. “All this time the Seven Kingdoms have feared who might invade. But it is _our_ portal to escape. To a new life and future – together.”

Now he could see possibility stretched out before them, infinite horizons, limitless adventures. It ran hot in his blood, fresh beginnings luring them to shores unchartered. 

_But not without my soulmate by my side…_

“Come with me My Lady. Marry me. We can be Knights on a quest together. Abandonment of this post will not impinge upon your honour – everyone knows vows taken under duress are not binding in the eyes of the Gods. The sole reason they sentenced you to this misery in the first place was because you were tarnished by your association with me.” 

The more he spoke the more convinced he became. 

**_This_** _is our destiny._

“We know the pattern of the Guards; we know when the shifts change. We can slip through unnoticed. But if the worst happens, we can easily cut our way through a full patrol. Our steel is the strongest, we have the skill. We would be gone before they even raised the alarm.” He rained kisses upon her face, her scars. 

“I will not go without you. I love you and wherever you choose to be I will remain, even if it means staying put in this stagnant cycle. But please give it consideration…”

She interrupted with the tender brush of her lips against his own. 

“Yes.” There was no hesitancy - only thrill and elation. “I will become your wife in a place where writers plot our future. I will accompany you to the boundary of this world and into a new one. As ‘Braime’ we will go – inseparable and madly in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this tale concludes on International Fanworks Day 2020.  
> Thank you for joining me on this meta adventure. It has been a tonne of fun! 
> 
> I am often posting Braime fics and have just begun my Valentine's Day tale 'Devotedly, Anon.' - So be sure to check back often or subscribe.  
> I adore chatting - feel free to find me on Tumblr @nightreaderenigma  
> I would love to hear from you. :)
> 
> Happy Fanworks Day to All!  
> Madelyn <3

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for the next chapter coming soon.  
> If you have any comments, I would love to hear from you. :)


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